


Retaliation.

by GameandWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Abuse, domestic abuse, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GameandWolf/pseuds/GameandWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim uses Sebastian as his personal punching bag. He doesn't expect that after a few drinks, Sebastian hits back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retaliation.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kink Meme:  
> http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/16422.html?thread=94736934#t94736934

Jim Moriarty has always been very good at planning things out. He always knows who is going where, when they’ll be there and why they’re going. He doesn’t like for things to go against his plan.  
  
Which is why when he finally decides to take a lover, he makes his selection very carefully. He needs someone attractive, someone who is unerringly loyal to him, and perhaps most importantly, someone who can take a hit for when his more violent moods swing in. All of this makes Sebastian Moran the perfect choice to take to his bed. The man is entirely and without a doubt, utterly his. Nothing Jim could ever do could possibly turn the man away from him and Sebastian has to have the patience of a fucking saint for all that he tolerates Jim’s eternally shifting moods without batting an eyelash. Best of all, he’s built like an animal meant for fighting, six foot three inches of solid muscle with the training to use them properly.  
  
What Jim didn’t count on in his plan, was his animal having a penchant for losing his cool under the influence of too many shots of whiskey and a tendency to hit back with the force of a train.  
  
Jim lays on the floor, cheek pressed to the carpet, ears still ringing from the force of the blow to his head. He’d been prowling back and forth across the length of his sitting room, fuming silently at the news _another_ of his clients had been caught by Sherlock _fucking_ Holmes. Sebastian had stumbled into the flat, swaying slightly on his feet and reeking of too much alcohol when Jim lashed out at him and struck him hard across the face, needing the outlet for his pent up rage.  
  
It wasn’t the first time he’d used Sebastian as his personal punching bag, but it certainly was the first time Sebastian had ever hit back and Jim hadn’t expected the fist that collided with the side of his face, causing stars to burst behind his eyes and him to suddenly become better acquainted with his floor.  
  
He stays down on the floor, not moving while his brain tries to catch up with what just happened. He runs his tongue over his teeth, licking away the blood welling up between them. Sebastian actually fucking hit him. He lifts his head and the room spins a bit but he focuses his glare on Sebastian who’s staring at him with a look that says he can’t quite believe it either.  
  
“What,” Jim snarls, ignoring the flecks of blood that fly from his mouth, “the fuck do you think you’re doing?”  
  
Sebastian replies with a half-hearted shrug, “You hit me first.”  
  
Jim pulls himself to his feet and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, “You _ever_ do that again, and I will personally see to it that you learn what it’s like to have every bone in your body broken. Twice.”  
  
He doesn’t expect Sebastian’s reply, a snorted, “No, you won’t.” he leans against the wall to steady himself, “I’m the best you’ve got. You wouldn’t ruin me,” He lets out a slightly hysterical drunken giggle, “You need me.”  
  
The idea that Jim _needs_ anyone is infuriating and he launches himself at Sebastian again. His fist makes contact with Sebastian’s jaw, but as soon as it does, the larger man has a hold on his wrist and with a sharp twist, Jim is bent over double and Sebastian’s knee is colliding sharply with his stomach.  
  
He tumbles to the ground with a wheeze, gasping for air and curling in on himself. Sebastian sinks to the ground next to him and slides his fingers into Jim’s hair, stroking over his scalp lightly before twisting his finger in the dark strands and yanking hard, pulling Jim up into a sitting position.  
  
“You’re so little,” He grins, “You’re like a kitten. You’ve got the claws but you don’t know how to use them, “ He laughs when Jim bares his teeth at him and that only pisses Jim off even more. “You’re more suited for ordering people to fight for you," His head cocks to the side, “That’s why I’m here though, isn’t it. It’s such a good thing that you’re smart. And pretty, too.” Sebastian crushes his mouth against Jim’s, ignoring the way the smaller man thrashes against him.  
  
When Jim finally manages to pull away, he lands a sharp strike across Sebastian’s face again before scrambling to his feet and across the room. Sebastian isn’t laughing anymore as he wipes Jim’s blood from his mouth and glares after him.  
  
“Stop. Hitting me.”  
  
Jim backs himself slowly across the room, angling for something to grab, “You forget yourself; that’s the reason that I keep you around.”  
  
Sebastian pulls himself back up to his feet and barks out, “I’m not your fucking punching bag!”  
  
“Yes, you are,” Jim reaches the cricket bat stuffed between two bookshelves and lunges forward again, swinging with as much force as he can. Sebastian’s alcohol soaked nerves aren’t fast enough to get out of the way, but he’s fast enough to throw his arm up to protect his head. The bat collides with his left arm with sickening _thud_ and he howls in pain, kicking out violently with one leg and catching Jim in the hip. Jim goes down hard with a low grunt and Sebastian manages to wrest the bat away from.  
  
He tosses it to one side and lashes out with his foot again, catching Jim in the chest and causing, what he hopes from the sound of it, a rib to crack under the force of it. Jim lets out a small whimper of pain and tries to roll away when Sebastian advances on him again, but the other man moves too quickly and catches him easily. He grabs Jim by the throat and straddles his hips, giving himself good leverage before swinging his fist and landing a solid blow across Jim’s face.  
  
Jim’s head is knocked painfully to one side and from the sound and pain that he’s feeling, he suspects that his nose is broken. He thrashes and bucks, trying to dislodge Sebastian but the hand around his throat and the legs pinning his hips are too solid to move.  
  
“You…” Sebastian slurs, “You are such a twisted _fuck_. Is that why you do all of this…the crime and shit? ‘Cause you get off on it?”  
  
He gets a mouthful of blood spat in his face for his question and in reply, Sebastian lifts Jim by the neck and slams him back against the floor. Jim’s vision swims for a moment as pain blossoms against the back of his head, “Take that as a no? You just get off on having the shit kicked out of you, then?”  
  
Jim bares his bloody teeth and snaps, “Because I’m so clearly enjoying _this_.” Sebastian raises his eyebrows in mockery and, without warning, shoves his free hand down the front of Jim’s trousers.  
  
For the first time since the whole thing started, Jim realizes he’s completely hard and he can’t quite stop the surprised moan of pleasure that escapes him when Sebastian’s hand wraps around his hard on. Sebastian squeezes hard and Jim writhes under him, the way he’s moving making it impossible to tell if he’s trying to get away or pressing for more contact.  
  
Sebastian leans down and presses his mouth hard against Jim’s, biting hard at his lips, forcing his mouth open and thrusting his tongue in, licking the blood from Jim’s mouth and swallowing down the sounds he’s making. Jim’s hands are clawing at him, alternating between shoving him away and pulling him closer.  
  
Every inch of Jim is hurting, but it hurts so _good_ and he can’t control himself; his body is betraying him as it begs for Sebastian while his mind rebels against it. Sebastian’s mouth is suddenly gone from his and Jim is asking for air, trying to clear his head but he suddenly finds himself flipped over and face down on the floor. Sebastian is pulling his hips up and yanking at his trousers, trying to pull them off. Jim scrambles forward, trying to crawl away but the mass amount of alcohol in Sebastian’ system isn’t enough to slow him down enough to let prey escape. He grabs Jim by the hips and yanks him back into place.  
  
He plasters himself along Jim’s backside and bites down sharply on his earlobe, groaning into his ear, “I’m going to fucking have you. I want to hear what you sound like when you’re getting fucked,” Jim’s cock twitches and he curses out loud, hating his body for what it’s doing and clawing his fingernails into the wooden floor. Sebastian pushes the fingers of one hand against Jim’s lips and gives his neck a sharp nip, “Suck. They’re going in you, so get them good and wet, yea?”  
  
Jim’s body reacts before he can stop himself and he sucking three of Sebastian’s fingers down, moaning around them, dragging his tongue over them and between them, letting his teeth graze the skin of his knuckles. Behind him, Sebastian is groaning into his shoulder and rocking hard against him. He’s lost his trousers at some point and his cock is sliding against Jim’s arse, hard and heavy and Jim just wants it _in_ him.  
  
The fingers are pulled from his mouth and Jim’s ashamed of the pitiful whimper he makes as a result but then two of them are pressing into him and it _hurts_ ; everything hurts, his nose, his jaw, his ribs, his arse but his brain must be wired incorrectly because every twinge of pain is going straight to his cock and making him desperate.  
  
Sebastian’s fingers make quick work of stretching him and it doesn’t take long before a third is pressed in and they’re torturously pressing against his prostate. Jim’s barely able to hold himself up and it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing his tender face against the hard floor, whimpering and begging, half-started pleas and unrestrained moans.  
  
The fingers are finally pulled free and Jim can hear Sebastian spit into his palm and then suddenly Sebastian’s is _in him_ , no slow motion, no time to adjust, just slammed in fully, buried to the hilt in Jim’s body and Jim can’t bite back the scream that it tears out of him.  
  
He immediately sets rough, brutal pace, pulling almost entirely out of Jim’s body and slamming back in and Jim cries out with every stroke, loud and needy as he pushes back against him. Sebastian’s hands are tight on his hips and from the force of his grip, Jim adds hand shaped bruises to his mental list of injuries for the night.  
  
Sebastian is suddenly pressed against his back again and he sinks his teeth into the skin just above the collar of Jim’s shirt. The skin splits under his teeth and Jim thinks he’s close to passing out when Sebastian’s tongue presses against the wound and teases it. Jim jerks and twists his head, trying to look back towards Sebastian. He’s caught off guard when the other man’s lips catch his again and licking his own blood from Sebastian’s lips, cursing him between sharp nips of his teeth.  
  
“Shut up,” Is snarled against Jim’s mouth and then Sebastian’s hand is at his neck, holding him tight. He can still breath but the skin is no doubt bruising as Sebastian holds him in place, keeping him, dominating him, _owning_ him.  
  
Jim’s mind kicks into overdrive as it’s only just realized what a complete loss of control he has and his body gives out. His arms collapse under him and he hits the ground face first, nearly blacking out from the combination of pain and his orgasm being torn out of him.  
  
His head is fuzzy and he can barely feel Sebastian thrusting against him still, pounding in and out of him for several more minutes before he gives in and falls over the edge, coming hard inside of Jim with a rough, hoarse shout.  
  
Sebastian lays limply across Jim’s back for a moment before gngerly pulling out and rolling to one side, laying flat out on his back and panting for air. Jim stays face down on the floor, attempting to regain anything resembling control of his body.  
  
He has no idea what is body is doing or why it feels so _fucking_ good when he’s in so much pain but his mind is already planning ways to figure it out. The scientific part of his mind is reminding him that the experiment should be recreated as close to the original as possible to determine if the outcome is the same.  
  
He mentally adds a couple of bottles of liquor to his grocery list for next week.


End file.
